Something Like Thunder

by Jay Bell

  “I really am glad to see you,” Heath said. “I know you’ve needed your space to get things figured out, but these last few years haven’t been easy on me. When you become a parent someday, you’ll understand. It hurts to be away from your child.”

  Nathaniel dropped his plate on the table, the spoon taking a spill and clattering noisily on the floor, a deviled egg tumbling after it. “You think that’s what this is about?”

  Health showed his open palms. “If it’s not, then please talk to me. I’m your father.”

  Nathaniel turned to face him, wanting to shout, but the child inside of him hesitated because this man really was his father. So was Victor, but that person hadn’t raised him or taught him to ride a bike or taken him to see Santa Claus at the mall every year.

  “I love you,” Heath said. “Can’t we work this out?”

  “Can’t you stop hitting mom?”

  Heath’s expression became pained. “I’ve made mistakes. I’m not perfect.”

  “Neither am I, but you don’t see me hitting anyone.”

  “Besides your brother.” This was stated calmly, without accusation. “I know you had your reasons, and I’m sorry your mother and I didn’t realize them sooner. The men in this family have short tempers. That’s a trait we all need to work on.” His father opened his arms, as if expecting a hug.

  “Seriously?” Nathaniel said. “You think you can treat Mom like a punching bag and expect me to forgive that?”

  “I’ve only made that mistake on a few dark occasions. And not since you saw the bruises on her arm.”

  “Good. Maybe me staying away is the right idea.”

  Heath dropped his arms and sighed. “Please. Isn’t there anything I can do? Don’t ask me to leave her, because I truly do love your mother. But if there’s some way of regaining your trust—”

  “Go to counseling,” Nathaniel said. “Not just one session either. Get your head fixed. Then we can talk.”

  “All right. I’ll do that.”

  This took him aback. “I’m serious. I’ll have to hear from your therapist. I’ll make sure he knows the full truth. Unless he says you’re a changed man, we’re through.”

  “I’m serious too,” Heath said. “I’ll get counseling, not just to please you, but for your mother’s sake.” He opened his arms again. When this didn’t work, he extended a hand.

  Nathaniel took it, and not reluctantly, because he really wanted to believe his father would follow through. If his mother was safe, if Nathaniel could strike that fear off his list, then his life would be perfect. Nearly. He looked across the room to where Caesar was patiently suffering a lecture on table settings. His attention was drawn away again by Heath, who was talking about Yale and how proud he was, even though Nathaniel still hadn’t been accepted. He responded, making small talk to show that peace was possible. But he still didn’t intend to have a relationship until his father fulfilled his side of the bargain.

  The front of the room erupted in applause, signaling the arrival of the newly married couple. Nathaniel slipped away, fetching Caesar and pulling him out one of the side entrances and into fresh air.

  “What are we doing?”

  “Smoke break,” Nathaniel said.

  “Neither of us smoke.”

  “No, but it’s a handy excuse.”

  “Oh.” Caesar glanced through one of the windows at the increasing chaos inside. “Everything okay? You looked a little tense when talking to your dad.”

  “We never really patched things up.”

  “Seriously?” Caesar whistled. “I figured that would all be ancient history. I know he’s not your biological dad, but—”

  “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  Caesar nodded, hands in his pockets as he kicked at the ground. “You ever find out more about Victor?”

  Nathaniel shook his head. “Sometimes I think about going back to Warrensburg and asking around. Somebody must have known him, right? Then again, I’m not even sure what I’d ask.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Anything. Stories to flesh out the picture.”

  “Your mom must have a few of those.”

  “Yeah, but she was in love with him.”

  Caesar shrugged. “So?”

  “Love is like a dream. People often wake up from it and realize they’ve been with a stranger the entire time.”

  Caesar raised his head. “Where’d you read that? A fortune cookie?”

  Nathaniel smiled. “I wish. It’s sage advice. Might have saved me some heartache.”

  “Back when I ruined it all?”

  “Yup. Exactly.”

  Caesar strolled closer. “Maybe you’ve got it wrong. Maybe you wake up from the dream to realize it’s all true. I didn’t understand how much I loved you until I was dumb enough to throw it all away.”

  “You suck,” Nathaniel said evenly.

  “I know. But at least you like that about me.”

  By now Caesar was standing very close. That is until someone really did come out for a cigarette. Then he leapt away.

  “Old habits die hard,” Nathaniel said with a smirk, “but I don’t think you have to worry about your parents here. Where do they think you are?”

  “Bowling,” Caesar said, eying the new arrival as she wandered toward the parking lot.

  “In a suit?”

  “They aren’t paying much attention right now. They’ve got their hands full with the new guy. Another foster kid. He’s in your old room, actually.”

  Nathaniel frowned. Despite how things ended, he still remembered his time with the Hubbards fondly. “I hope he lasts longer than I did.”

  Caesar snorted. “I don’t think he will. The guy refuses to go to church or put on the doofy clothes my mom buys for him. He’s not exactly trying to fit in, although to be fair, my mom is way worse ever since… You know. Hey, speaking of which, think you can get me a six-pack of beer?”

  “Why? Hoping to knock back a few with your mom?”

  “No, with Jason. The new guy. I want to get him drunk. I figure he’s earned it for all the crap he puts up with.”

  Nathaniel shrugged, his stomach growling. “I’ll see what I can do.” He moved toward the door, music escaping when he opened it. At the front of the hall, a DJ bounced around behind a turntable, and while no one was dancing, the floor was filled with people standing in close-knit groups so they could talk. The buffet was another hotspot, a huge crowd swarming over it.

  “If you want to prove your love to me,” Nathaniel said, “you’ll dive in there and get me some crab salad. And some crackers, but only the whole wheat kind. Something to drink too.”

  “And where will his majesty be?”

  “At our table.”

  Caesar performed a little bow, then left to elbow his way into the crowd. Nathaniel took a seat, feeling at peace until someone did a double-take and sat next to him.

  “Hi, Nate!” A dainty hand reached toward him, the nails perfect, a lace sleeve extending down the wrist. “I’ve been dying to meet you! I’m Sheila.”

  She made a beautiful bride. Even her stomach, which was curved, only made her seem radiant, more—quite literally—full of life. Her eyes sparkled as she patiently waited for him to accept her invitation. He took in the brown hair that was pulled back except for a single curl down one side of her face, the shine of her lip gloss, and the genuinely happy expression.

  Nathaniel felt stunned, and as he took her hand, he also felt sad, because he could see her future. “Only my family calls me Nate.”

  Sheila’s eyebrows rose a little. “I am family. Now, at least. It’s official!”

  “Right! I didn’t mean it that way. I just don’t like being called Nate.”

  “Oh, okay. Nathan?”

  “Nathaniel.”

  “Nathaniel. Gosh, I wish I had a longer name. ‘Sheila’ seems so simple now.”

  “Be grateful that you don’t.” He looked her over again and shook his h
ead. “Wow. I have a sister-in-law!”

  “It’s crazy, I know. Our families are merging together, and so much is changing.” She put a hand over her belly. “You’re going to be an uncle.”

  Nathaniel stared at her. Then he swallowed, not understanding why his eyes stung. Excitement? Dread? Both, most likely. “Do you get along?” he blurted out. “I know how hotheaded my brother can be.”

  “Dwight?” she waved a hand dismissively. “He’s a pussycat.”

  “A pussycat,” he repeated. Then he laughed at the sheer absurdity of the idea. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah! I know it’s hard to imagine the boy you once raised hell with as being a gentleman, but he is.”

  Raised hell with? That was one way of putting it. “Okay,” Nathaniel said, deciding not to enlighten her. What choice did he have? To start telling her horror stories in the hope of scaring her off? It was a little late for that. Besides, maybe she really had tamed Dwight. He doubted it, but maybe.

  “I know you’re busy with college—” Sheila said, pausing to add “Yale!” like she was excited for him, “—but I hope to see you around more. Come crash at our place during the holidays. It’ll be more fun than being stuck with your parents.”

  “I don’t think my mom will allow it. Doesn’t matter that I’m twenty years old. Not unless you want her sleeping over with me.”

  Sheila laughed. “You’re not kidding. All she does is talk about you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Dwight? Does he mention me much?”

  “Worried I know lots of embarrassing stories?” Sheila’s expression was reassuring. “No, all he ever talks about is the big game, which apparently refers to whichever is on that day, regardless of the sport.”

  “You’re safe with me,” Nathaniel said. “The only thing I like about the Super Bowl is the commercials.”

  “Me too! Oh, we have to hang out sometime. Maybe a little of your gayness will rub off on Dwight. That would make my life easier.” She put a hand over her mouth in shock. “Was that offensive?”

  Nathaniel chuckled. “I took it as a compliment.”

  “Good.” She patted his hand. “You won’t have any trouble with my family. Not at all. Most of them vote Nader.”

  He laughed again, his response cut short when the DJ announced the first dance of the evening. Sheila gave him a peck on the cheek before hurrying off to perform her duties. He watched with fascination as she coaxed Dwight onto the dance floor, and at the way he held her carefully as they swayed. Seeing his brother capable of so gentle a gesture was a serious mind fuck.

  People could change. He believed that, although he usually didn’t consider his brother a human being. In Nathaniel’s mind he had long ago transformed into a monster. Maybe Sheila was his Belle, the power of her love banishing the beast. And maybe an absence of love had cursed him in the first place. Nathaniel had to admit there were times he felt himself growing callous, the defenses he had erected around himself feeling more like a prison. He didn’t want to exchange places with his brother, to become so full of bitterness and rage. The alternative meant leaving himself unguarded, his tender heart vulnerable to Cupid’s arrow. But surely that was better than turning to stone.

  Caesar approached the table, drawing his attention. His hair was mussed, his suit ruffled, and a big white smear marred one lapel. “That was barbaric,” he said, setting a plate on the table.

  “What happened?”

  “I was going for the last of the crab salad when five thugs jumped me. Barely managed to fight them off.”

  Nathaniel repeated the question. “What happened?”

  “I slipped on a deviled egg and fell face first. You think banana peels are bad? Who the hell drops an egg on the floor and just leaves it there?”

  Nathaniel held back a grin. “The good news is that I forgive you.”

  “For?”

  “Everything. All of it.”

  Caesar’s eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. Except…”

  Caesar looked concerned. “What?”

  “You forgot my drink.”

  Caesar groaned, turned, and headed toward the buffet again. Behold the power of love!

  Chapter Ten

  Nathaniel walked as he often did these days—head down, one thumb in constant motion over his phone. His appreciation for technology grew each day. Previously he’d only been interested in the latest home theater advances, wishing he had more money to spend on high definition equipment or maybe a nice surround sound system. But much could be said for the magical little device in his hand. At the moment he was between classes and sending thinly veiled flirtations to Caesar. Later, when they were both out of school, this would continue. Caesar might be sitting at the dinner table, his parents just a few feet away, and Nathaniel could safely continue communicating with him. The cell phone had become their lifeline, their way of being together until—

  He shoved the fantasy aside, surprised when his phone rumbled and a text message came through.

  Stop bragging about what you saw in the locker room

  it was impressive! Nathaniel texted back.

  Probably a shower, not grower.

  Nathaniel laughed. are you in class?

  Nope. Little boys’ room.

  in a stall? with your pants down?

  You’re pooping with me.

  gross.

  Kidding. Tell me more about the locker room guy.

  Nathaniel rolled his eyes, but he was tempted to see how worked up he could get Caesar. save it for the bedroom.

  It’s more fun in public. With someone else. Remember?

  Nathaniel fought down a grin. come see me.

  Soon.

  no, right now.

  Sunday. Family is in church then. I’ll be visiting this hot guy I used to mess around with.

  Nathaniel stopped walking, looking around the campus with a goofy expression he was glad Caesar couldn’t see. this pleases his majesty.

  I’ll see you in court, Caesar texted back. A few seconds later, he sent another. That was supposed to sound royal.

  I get it. back to class.

  Nathaniel eyed the phone a moment longer, feeling a strange urge to give it a parting kiss. Instead he shoved the device in his pocket. That was the downside to technology. He and Caesar were still friends and nothing more, but when they connected this way, caution went out the window.

  More and more, he was okay with that. Nathaniel looked forward to every reunion, hoping it would be the one when they finally gave in to temptation. Except lately Caesar seemed hesitant, as if something was holding him back. During one sleepless night, Nathaniel thought he discovered the reason why. They had made a promise to be together. Caesar’s future was at Yale, not the University of Houston. Regardless of any potential they might have, they would still say goodbye at the end of summer. Unless Nathaniel could do the impossible. So far he hadn’t heard from the admissions committee. He needed help, but asking for it would mean returning to the past. And putting himself at risk.

  Nothing ventured, nothing gained. So went conventional wisdom, but Nathaniel was certain the opposite was equally feasible: Everything ventured, everything lost.

  * * * * *

  A hotel bar. Nathaniel didn’t choose the location. He supposed for someone who travelled a lot, a bar seemed an appropriately neutral meeting place. He didn’t feel like he belonged there, so he waited in the lobby instead. Every time the glass doors slid open, Nathaniel tensed, reminded of when he had waited for Caesar a few years back and the resulting heartbreak. Eventually he refused to look, sinking into the chair and staring at nothing until a familiar voice pulled him back to the present.

  “I didn’t recognize you at first. You’re a man now.”

  Nathaniel looked up at Mr. Hubbard, feeling more like a boy. Caesar’s father appeared much the same. Still the gray hair at the temples, the salt and pepper mustache, and the business-casual golf clot
hes. He didn’t smile, but he did extend a hand. Nathaniel stood before he shook it. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”

  Mr. Hubbard released his hand to clap him on the shoulder. “I always felt bad for letting matters end the way they did. We should have spoken, so at the very least, I wanted a chance to correct that.”

  A promising beginning. They strolled together toward the bar where they sat on neighboring stools, Mr. Hubbard leaning toward him with a conspiring whisper. “Old enough to drink yet?”

  “Still a few months shy,” Nathaniel said.

  “Close enough.” Mr. Hubbard raised his hand to get the bartender’s attention. “A couple of beers for my son and me.”

  Son. Mr. Hubbard only called him that to comply with Texas law, pretending to be his guardian so he could buy him alcohol. Regardless, the term made Nathaniel yearn for a time when that seemed a real possibility. In reality, he had one father he had never met and another he had rejected. Mr. Hubbard might have been the father he would have chosen, had he not messed it all up.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  Mr. Hubbard heard him and took a deep breath. “I wanted you to love my son. That was my intention. But not like that.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re not the first man to struggle with such feelings. Lord knows you won’t be the last.” Mr. Hubbard paused, watching the bartender finish tapping their beers. Only when the glasses were set before them did he continue. “I like to believe that events didn’t progress beyond what my wife saw that day. Affectionate behavior bordering on the inappropriate. If it led to more, I need you to tell me now.”

  “No,” Nathaniel said, shaking his head adamantly. It wasn’t a lie. He was refusing to answer the question, but he knew Mr. Hubbard would misinterpret it as confirmation of what he wanted to believe—that his son had been confused and nothing more.

  “Caesar was young,” Mr. Hubbard said. “So were you. Old enough to know better, perhaps, but still young enough to be forgiven.”

  Nathaniel hesitated. He was willing to do a lot for Caesar or he wouldn’t be sitting here, but he wasn’t about to start denying who he was. What he had done, yes, but he wouldn’t be shoved back into the closet. “It’s not just a phase for me,” he said. “That I fell in love with your son wasn’t puberty-induced confusion. I’m a gay man, and I feel absolutely no shame in that.”